06-Leading Strong
by Chronic Guardian
Summary: [Twelve Shots of Summer] Tamako smiled, "It could be Toyoko, or even Mai, with time. But I think it should be you, Mrs. Sugiyama. Your husband is at a lonely place where he believes he will be alone no matter which path he chooses. You are in a unique position to accept and support him. Besides, I don't believe you'd be such a bad dancer yourself."


**Leading Strong**

by Chronic Guardian

**Author's Note:**

**Written for the Twelve Shots of Summer Week 6(How it Should Have Ended).**

**Yes, I switch between -san and Mr./Mrs and paraphrase a few translated lines. Apologies. I also apologize for being later in the day than usual. However, I present to you without regret the fruits of my obscure labor: the first ever "Shall We Dance?(1996)" fan fiction (tadaa!). Although I'd originally intended to do a humorous piece this week, when the idea for this story came along I just couldn't say no to taking the prompt in the opposite direction. **

**Now, while the evening's still young, shall we?**

**Yours,**

**-CG**

}{

"_For you see, Sugiyama-san, up until that point I had danced only for myself. But a dancer, however great on their own, will always need a partner; someone to trust._"

}{

Sugiyama Shohei, over halfway through his forties, seemed to have a talent for being dismally successful at the wrong things; First at a job he loathed and now at a social habit shunned by all who knew better.

Dancing.

It was the sort of thing that started whispers behind your back if people ever caught even the shadow of it, and it didn't make for a very convenient secret. Particularly not from his wife, given the circumstances. His motives for initiating the practice were... reckless, to say the least. To meet the melancholy woman who watched the world from the studio window, who seemed to reflect his longing for purpose, for understanding... indeed it seemed silly to think about now. He hadn't expected his wife to understand, not when he didn't either. Thank goodness the woman, Kishikawa Mai, had rejected his half-thought ambitions.

The rejection, however, was simply the starting point. It was then that he realized not how intimate dancing seemed, but how freeing it was. Those were ever the two sides of the art: the moment of joy as music coursed through your body, and the person you shared that moment with. Within that, there were two levels he'd learned to keep: a light "social" level wherein one could simply enjoy the company of a fellow dancer, and a deeper "professional" level where trust and understanding between the dancers was key. The former could be applied anywhere, it was a tool for interaction, like striking up a lively conversation with a stranger. The latter was more personal, requiring that the involved parties understand each other's individuality, but also their unity. Dance partners working on the professional level depended on each other for balance, for completion, and for guidance.

"_When you lead, you must put your entire body into the step. You are signaling to your partner what you are doing, so you must be bold and show them exactly what you mean to do. You cannot hesitate or show indecision, or the step will be weak."_

Perhaps that was it. Perhaps he was failing to lead. He hadn't told his wife anything about it, so naturally she became out of place. When he'd first started, he'd kept it from her completely, even now it was like he was trying to hold her at arm's length from the subject. When she brought it up, he'd quickly say "Oh, that? Don't worry I've given it up" and go on with whatever he'd been doing.

To an extent, it wasn't a lie. He didn't go to the Kishikawa Dance School to practice with the others, nor did he go to the courtyard after dusk to practice alone. He kept his feet still at work and truly did his best to forget what he'd been chasing so fervently. On the surface, he appeared successful. Inside, it felt like being smothered.

So there it was: Mr. Sugiyama was torn. He longed to dance, to revel in its simple joys the way his teacher had. But he also wanted to please his wife, and not simply out of obligation. At first, Masako was more or less just another line on the road-to-happiness schematic; get married, have a child, get a house. Along the way though, it had to be recognized that he'd genuinely fallen in love with the loyal companion he'd chosen for himself. He couldn't betray her, not if he wanted to face himself in the morning.

}{

Sugiyama Masako looked in the mirror and frowned. She was not built to be a dancer.

She was short, her hair only did one look, and beyond neutrals and pastels she could never find a color to suit her. Nothing vibrant ever seemed to favor her plain build; too thick to be willowy, too thin to be curved. The lines of age had yet to really catch up with her, but those were starting to show as well. If she'd ever had a chance at dancing it was probably long past.

Still, she read the books and practiced the movements. With no one to guide her through it, the steps seemed awkward and ill-paced. She wouldn't dare try them to music. Their daughter was likely suspicious enough as it was.

Mr. Sugiyama wouldn't notice. It had become second nature to him. It was almost frightening, watching him change practically before her eyes. His posture had straightened, his gait had smoothed to a glide, and he'd come alive with a vigor she'd never seen before. He lived it out so completely that any effort she could possibly offer would pale in comparison.

Masako sighed and went back to cleaning the house. There was a rift here that she didn't know how to cross. If he didn't dance he'd become empty, and if he did dance he'd become distant. Perhaps there was no winning.

A knock at the door made her flinch, interrupting her drudging pace and forcing a serene mask as she hurried to answer.

She was met by an older woman about her height (or perhaps just a little shorter), dressed simply but elegantly. A gentle smile rested on her face, as if she'd just been laughing at a good joke with a close friend, and her eyes sparkled with life.

"Mrs. Sugiyama?" The woman asked hopefully.

Masako nodded and the woman's smile broadened.

"My name is Tamura Tamako I've been looking forward to meeting you."

}{

"As his partner, yes," Tamako nodded exuberantly over her tea. They'd moved to the living room to talk after she'd introduced herself as Mr. Sugiyama's dance instructor. "Mr. Sugiyama is learning well, but Toyoko still has far too much flair to be his competitive partner. He needs someone who understands him. So I thought to myself, who would know someone so shy as Mr. Sugiyama?"

Masako tried to smile at the woman before glumly looking back at her own untouched cup. "Well, I... I'm not so sure I'd be suited for the role. But..."

Tamako didn't actually interrupt, but her patient, listening gaze caused Mrs. Sugiyama to stop short. What was there to say? That her husband didn't actually trust her? That maybe he shouldn't? She _had_ hired a private investigator to find out what he'd been doing. In all fairness, his silence combined with coming home late smelling of perfume (perfume, she now realized, belonged to the pleasant woman sharing her living room) had been rather suspicious.

"I understand," Tamako said quietly, her voice remaining confident in its small but sturdy way. "You see... Mr. Sugiyama was not much good when he started either. Why, he would barely move his feet when we first went over the steps."

"But now—"

"Now he still has room to grow," Tamako went on without breaking stride. "But he needs someone to grow with. Someone to share this special joy with."

"...And you believe that someone can be me?"

Tamako smiled, "It _could_ be Toyoko, or even Mai, with time. But I think it _should_ be you, Mrs. Sugiyama. Your husband is at a lonely place where he believes he will be alone no matter which path he chooses. You are in a unique position to accept and support him. Besides, I don't believe you'd be such a bad dancer yourself."

Masako gave the older woman a politely ambiguous nod. Tamako just kept smiling her small, confident smile. "Besides," she continued, putting down her tea on the coffee table. "It doesn't take an excellent dancer to be an excellent partner. I think you should give it a try."

Despite all the doubts she still harbored, a small part of Masako smiled back and agreed to hope.

}{

That night, when Mr. Sugiyama came home straight after work simply because there was nothing else to be done with himself, he ate dinner with his wife and daughter before going to lie down on the couch. He'd been sitting all day, but he felt exhausted. His feet, which had felt like feathers a week earlier, now felt like lead.

He couldn't sleep either. He was restless but only enough to keep him awake and without an idea of what to do about it. Normally, he'd be at the Kishikawa Dance school at this time of night. And even as his mind tried to forget that, his body refused.

"Shohei?"

Mr. Sugiyama stiffened internally at his wife's voice. He could already tell where this was going by her tone. She was going to ask about dancing again and he was going to have to deny it again. Each time it felt like incorriging a fresh wound.

Still, she was his wife, so he would answer.

"Yes, dear?"

"Umm... about dancing..."

He went back to hiding in the magazine. "I've given it up," he reiterated. "You don't have to worry."

"No!" she said, her voice suddenly gaining a stubborn, if flustered, edge. "I do! I do have to worry. You're always giving everything you have to help others realize their dreams. I want... I want you to—umm... to..." Her voice quieted as she seemed to realize herself.

He sighed and and put the publication down. "...to dance?" It sounded ridiculous, but it almost fit. Maybe it was just a stray hope.

"Yes."

He paused. _That _was unexpected.

"I-I want to see you alive again," she pressed with renewed vigor. "I'd thought I was losing you when it was happening, but when I look at it now I realize how much it helped you. You used to do nothing but work, day after day. I wanted to support you then too, to be of some help to the man who gave so selflessly to me. But then... when you were dancing? You were so full of life that you could barely hold it in! Please, don't let me be the reason that you stop enjoying life! Don't let this go because you think it will hurt me. I want—"

Their daughter, Chikage, took that moment to do something she never cared to do. She interrupted her parents. "Dance with mom," she said, commanded, almost. "She needs a partner if she's ever going to learn."

Mr. and Mrs. Sugiyama stared at their child for a moment. Chikage gave an exasperated sigh before dragging Mr. Sugiyama to his feet and ushering him towards the back patio. "Come on, dad, dance for me. I only got to see a little bit at the competition."

"But—" Mr. Sugiyama attempted to protest, though his limbs felt like they were lightening already.

"Just one dance, just for us," Chikage said, standing back and crossing her arms. "It can't be that hard, can it?"

He looked at Masako. She was scared. So was he. But she was also resolved. She stood and waited, watching to see what he would do, waiting on his lead. He slowly nodded and offered his hand as he assumed a ready position. With some chagrin, he noted his fingers were shaking.

When she took his hand, hers were too.

Where would he begin? How would he tell her how to experience what he'd experienced? He inhaled deeply. "When I put my foot forward, draw yours back, alright?"

She bobbed her head against his chest.

He held her a little closer, pulling in gently until he could feel her side along his. Their breathing began to match up and he waited just a moment more before lifting his foot and taking the first step. Clumsily, she followed.

He didn't do the broad sweeping steps he would've done with Mai or Toyoko or Tamako. Not this evening. Masako wasn't ready yet.

But she was trying.

A thin, sad smile pulled at his cheeks. "I'm sorry I made you feel lonely."

Warm tears fell on his shirt and Masako clenched his hand a little harder.

"Quick, quick, slow," he whispered softly, remembering the first lessons with Tamako and the simple joy of finally matching steps with the chant. "Quick, quick, slow."

He took a deeper step.

And she followed.

}{

**A/N: **

"**Hang on, that last scene actually happened!"**

**Yup, it totally did. HOWEVER, because I personally felt like Sugiyama's wife should've been a stronger element (Oh, me and my traditionalism) I think that building up to this scene a little more and stressing it a little stronger worked well enough. If this heavy tone didn't do it for you though, you can always check out the actually fun one-shots from TSoS at our Forum or Community. Thank you for reading, and may the summer find you well.**

**Regards,**

**-CG **


End file.
